My lovely friend Jennifer from Happily-Ever-After-Land has agreed to guest post for me today, so everyone enjoy her and play nice while I go gaze at the sharks and penguins at the Aquarium, OK? Now what did I say? You're going to play nice, right? Good. Now that we have that settled, with no further ado, heeeeeeeere's Jennifer!
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The Wise (*Young*) Mommy has deserted you to go gallivanting around with some Brit. In the interim, she has left you in the care of ME, The Not-So-Wise (*A Little Less Young*) Mommy of Happily-Ever-After-Land, to entertain you hooligans until she gets back (hopefully not reeking of cheap martinis, but let’s not hold our breath)!
So today I finally caved. I have had a love/hate relationship with my post-baby body ever since, well, actually, since BEFORE I was pregnant! But said relationship has certainly become more tumultuous since baby’s arrival.
First, I stayed in my maternity wear for WAY too long. Nothing makes you feel more like you’re still pregnant then a pair of those awful jeans with the stretchy waistband that give you that oh-so-attractive “poopy-butt” look.
But, lo and behold, after a couple months, I managed to fit in my (previously considered) “fat jeans.” Hallelujah!
That lasted about a second, and then a few more pounds crept back to my rear section.
By then, I was alright with purchasing a couple pairs of jeans in my new *correct* size. No worries, I thought, I’ll be back to my old weight in no time!
After about a year (I am nothing if not stubborn) of trying to squeeze my poor body into all my old Junior’s Section clothes, I faced up to reality and finally bought some clothes that fit.
And yes, that included the dreaded “Mom Jeans.”
However, there was one item that I held out on. The very last article of clothing that contained my self-esteem…..that contained the hope I still clung to of a lighter version of myself…..that contained my ass.
That’s right ladies (and probably one dude out there, Hi Honey!), I’ve bought New Underwear.
And that underwear is ONE SIZE LARGER.
Yes, I know, take a moment to feel my defeat.
Oddly enough, I’m OK with this newest purchase. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t see it coming. Everything else is a size larger (or two, but I’m not admitting to it!). And I had become irritated with the Triple Bump Lump.
What’s that, Petra-Devotees? You were not aware of the Triple Bump Lump? Well, then, let me educate you!
According to the Official Dictionary of Happily-Ever-After-Land, the Triple Bump Lump is when the elastic of one’s underwear digs into the fatty areas of one’s hips and thighs, so as to create a lump at the upper thigh (where bottom elastic of underwear is stretched to its limit), a bump where the hip is trying desperately to free itself from said bondage (aka: underwear), and a second lump at the hip bone (where top elastic of underwear is holding on for dear life - in some circles, known as a “muffin top”).
This is not to be confused with the Quadruple Lump Bumps, which is when the cups of one’s bra dig into each breast, so as to create a “quadra-boob” look. Not a problem for me, but one that my sister is intimately aware of.
My Triple Bump Lump was grossly out of control. Somewhere, Victoria Secret was in a corner crying for me, and asking God, “WHY?”
But, alas, no more! The latest trip to Target saw a purchase of some brand new undies, one size UP, thank you very much.
Mind you, they were very cheap undergarments, and the old ones are still resting comfortably in my dresser drawer. A girl can’t lose ALL hope that those 20 pounds will melt themselves away!
Now, now, dry your tears. Our beloved Petra will be returning shortly, and you won’t have to be subjected to underwear humor or made-up dictionary entries anymore! Of course, she’ll probably be speaking drunken British by then, so who knows if any of us will be able to understand her!
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